


hey there, cascara.

by darlenedytee



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Reddie, Stenbrough, barista! eddie kaspbrak, musician! richie tozier, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23399650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlenedytee/pseuds/darlenedytee
Summary: “Whats it c-called?” Bill asks.“Cascara.”“Whats t-t-that?” Bill frowns, tilting his head slightly. Stan, also seems at a loss.“A type of coffee.” Richie replies easily.“So…” Stan starts, pursing his lips. “After sending you to a cafe to find inspiration, the best thing you could come up with was coffee?”“The song isn't about the coffee.” Richie scrunches his nose. “It’s about a guy I met there.”
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	hey there, cascara.

“You have a month and a half, Rich.” Beverley says, pencil to temple.

“Thats it?” Richie’s brows raise. “I swear I had three.”

“You had three a month and a half ago.” She deadpans, grabbing the first paper off a stack and flipping it towards him. “You haven't even named the record yet.” She sets it down in front of him, and he picks it up, pursing his lips.  
  
“I’ll figure it out babe. You know me. It’ll get done. It’s all a part of the process.” He hands it back, and she hesitates, grabbing it back and sighing.

In all honesty he knew this meeting was coming. Over seven months to finish an album and he's barely written over half of the record. And the worst part is none of it feels right. Richie has had the worst writers block of his life this past year. He wants to scrap it all, but he can’t. Beverley would grow a second head if he even suggested the idea. Theres no time to restart, he just has to finish it.

“I just need-” He pauses, grasping for the right word. “An adventure, you know? Something worth writing about.”  
  
“What you need,” Beverley starts. “Is at least two more songs and an album name in a month and a half so we can start producing them for the scheduled release. I can’t push the date _again_ , Rich. 

“I know, I know.” He hums, before dragging his hands down his face. “What would you name the record?”

“You know you wouldn't like any of my ideas.” Beverley laughs. “I know you, and if you don’t think of it, you wont use it.” She stands, dusting off her shirt. “Now, go home Tozier. and write something. Anything. Help me sleep at night Trashmouth.”

“Will do.” Richie nods, then stands to salute Beverley, who cracks a smile. He grabs his bag before turning to her and grimacing. “I’ll blow your socks off Bev. Just trust me, yeah?”

“I trust you, Rich. You're the best songwriter I know.” She says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You bet your ass I am. This record will be done by tomorrow doll. No stress.”

__________

Two days later, and no progress has been made. Nada. Not even a word. His album has no theme, and his songs have no substance. It’s going to flop and he’ll be left to grovel in his mistakes. Nothing more than a one hit wonder. _Remember Richie Tozier?_ people will say. _No, I dont._ The world will respond.

“Stop moping Rich.” Stan, his roommate says, leaning against Richie’s doorframe. “Maybe you need a new setting. You’ve spent so many hours stuck in this office. Maybe a change in scenery will spike an idea?” He suggests, before walking in to take a seat on the couch.

“Maybe.” He mutters, head resting against his desk.

“I’ll take you to the coffee shop near Rosewood if you want.”

Richie raises his head to look at Stan. He’s wearing his dress shirt. And sure, every one of Stan’s shirts are dress shirts, but this ones extra nice. Its blue with a bird embroidered over his chest. His hair is also a little more put together than usual. “You have a date with Big Bill, don't you?”

“Well yeah, but-”

“I’ll drive myself, Stan. You on the other hand should get dapper for you’re, ahem, rendez-vous.”

“That was the worst french I've ever heard.”

“You love it.” Richie smiles wide, stuffing his computer into a backpack. “Thanks for the idea man. Try not to have too much fun tonight, and if you do, my room is off limits, comprendo?”

“I hate you.”

Richie simply laughs, grabbing a notepad before slinging his backpack on his shoulder, blowing an overly obnoxious kiss in Stan’s direction, accompanied by an equally obnoxious “Muah!” noise.

________

Maybe a hoodie would have been a good idea. Sunglasses at least probably would have helped. Because sometimes, much to Richie’s inconvenience, he forgets that he is in fact a celebrity to some capacity.

And apparently, by some disastrous miracle, everyone in this fucking coffee shop knows who he is. Guess he’s not getting jack done today.

So far, he's got six people surrounding him and they all have something to say. All at the _same time_.  
  
“Can I have a picture?”

“Yes of cou-”

“Can you sign this?”

“Ya just one seco-”

“Whens the album coming out?”

“May sixtee”

“Can I get that photo now?”

“Ya just give me a s-”

“Whats the record called?”

"It’s uh-”

“Can you-”

  
And he wants to answer them all. He wants to make them happy and say his thank you’s and hear what they have to say but he also really just wants to sit down and have a coffee without feeling like a spectacle. He also cant help but feel bad for the other people simply trying to enjoy the quiet of the cafe which he's practically destroyed.

All of the fans are female. They usually are. He’s pegged his fanbase as mostly indie style teenage girls, though there are obviously exceptions. Most of the time, this means his encounters are never calm when there is more than three people. And usually, at least one of those three people are crying. Not to come off as ungrateful. No of course not. Richie loves meeting his fans. Under the right circumstances. This, is not particularly one of them.

But its fine. Its all fine and dandy until one of them manages to slip his ring off, gasping as she asks to try it on, whilst in the process of putting it on her finger.

“Hey!” Richie says, baffled, “I need that. Seriously, can I ha-”

“Ladies, I’m going to have to ask you to take it outside.” A new voice cuts in. The male voice among the crowd of pestering females rings out loud and clear.

Richie redirects his attention to look at the cutest barista he's ever seen. He has his hip jutted out, arms crossed. The guy looks about Richie’s age, with curly brown hair and a displeased look. “It’s getting a little too rowdy in here.” cute barista frowns. “Please, if you wish to continue this, do so outside of the cafe.”

The girls give cute barista a scowl, but it seems to pester them off. None of them make a move for the door, though. The blond girl is still holding Richie’s ring, and Richie kind of really wants that back for what he assumes to be very obvious reasons.

Richie is about to ask for it back in the most polite tone he can muster, but his sentence is cut off by cute barista, who's miles ahead of him. “Could you give the gentleman his ring back, ma’am?” He asks, gesturing to Richie.

The girl thankfully seems embarrassed to some extent, quickly handing it over and muttering out a quick “Sorry bout’ that Richie.”

“It’s alright.” Richie assures, smiling as he slips the ring back on. And that is about to be that. The girls have to leave. But Richie has always been a people pleaser at heart. He doesn't want any guilt on his conscience either. “If you all step outside with me I can take pictures. But after that I have to go get some work done, kay?”

They all nod vigorously, sticking close by as Richie makes his way outside. He tries to sneak a quick glance at cute barista on his way out the door, but he's impossible to see over the small crowd of taller girls following in toe behind him. It’s alright, Richie shouldn’t be too long.

He spends a good twenty minutes outside with the girls, which is much longer than he intended to, but he hates to come off as ungrateful to his supporters. Richie is conscious to make sure he indulges himself into all their conversations. He listens to one girl, Abigail, explain that she's been to three of his shows. Amanda, telling him all about her favourite songs of his and the impact he's had in her life. Bianca and Taylor, two sisters, saying they've been following him since the beginning of his career (which is pretty crazy to think about). And then Bailey, the blond who’d temporarily stolen his ring, express a little too frequently that he is ‘so hot’ and she’s ‘obsessed’ with his style.

Eventually, he peels himself away from the group and waves them off, making his way back into the cafe in search of cute barista.

 _No_ , his brain tells him. _You came here to work, Trashmouth. Not to flirt._ Ya, well fuck you brain. Whats one more day gonna do?

Damn it, this record is never getting done.

Cute barista is at the second cash. Of course he is. He’s working after all, with a decent line up at his lane too. The cafe is moderately busy. More than half the tables are filled, though the majority of its customers seem to now be solely senior citizens. The first cash has a few less people then cute barista’s line. Richie strides up to cash two anyway, lining up behind an older woman with ginger hair and a black sequin jacket.

CB (Cute barista, obviously.) is good at his job. He smiles at all his customers, and seems to be making small talk with what Richie assumes to be regulars. His only flaw, is that he doesn’t wear his name tag. Glancing over at cash one, Richie can very clearly see the man at that cash is sporting a tag with the name _Mike_ presented on his chest in black lettering. CB, has nothing in semblance to a name tag anywhere.

The line moves up fairly quickly compared to what Richie had been expecting. And he realizes a little to late that it is in fact his turn to order, and he hasn't glanced at the menu once.

“Welcome to Presley’s Brew how can I help you?” CB recites, not even sparing Richie a glance as he opens a new roll of quarters for his cash.

“Whats the best drink you've got?” Richie asks, leaning his arms on the counter. That seems to catch CB’s attention, who tries to hide a slight grimace as he looks up to face Richie, roll of quarters abandoned. Wow, he has pretty eyelashes.

“Every drink is _good_. It depends on what your preference is.” He says, and its hard to miss the judgement in his tone. Cute.

“Alright,” Richie laughs. “Whats your favourite drink?”

“I don’t see how that’d help you choose.”

“Wow, are you always this nice to your customers?” Richie smiles so wide it hurts.

CB stares at Richie as if he's grown a second head, before sighing in relent. “Our cascara coffee.”

“Never heard of it.” Richie responds. “But if its half as sweet as you are i'm sure i’ll love it.”

CB rolls his eyes, but Richie can tell he's suppressing a grin. Thats a win, folks. “Its also referred to as a our coffee cherry tea. Its similar to a tea. But its still a coffee. It’s a sweeter drink, but I usually add honey anyway.”

“I’ll get a large. With the honey.” Richie replies, digging into his pocket for his wallet.

“Okay,” CB nods, punching something into the cash. “three seventy-five is your total.”

“Alright. Thanks.” Then, Richie remembers. “Oh, and also thanks for earlier. You know, with the girls? I appreciate it, uh-” Richie makes show of looking for the name tag he knows isn't there, peering over the counter and all.

“Eddie. And you're welcome.”

“Why don't you wear your name tag?” Richie asks, pulling out a fiver and handing it out

“Because customers don’t need to know my name.” Eddie says, taking the bill.

“Well you told me.” Richie says, quirking a brow. “Am I special Eds?”  
  
“No, what you are is holding up the line. Also, thats not my name.” Eddie then gestures to the four people behind him. “Please step to the side to wait for your order.”

Eddie has a brow raised and his hand on his hip as he waits for Richie to move. His short stature doesn't help how comedic Richie is already finding this entire situation to be. “Of course.” Richie winks, mocking a bow before stepping to the side to wait for his order. Eddie’s scoff is hard to miss.

It doesn't take long for Richie’s drink to be handed to him. Before that though he spends his time watching Eddie work. Eddie can obviously tell, and he's obviously slightly confused. The red tinge on his nose gives it away. Regardless, Richie shamelessly observes the interactions he has before his drink is handed to him, and he begrudgingly leaves to find a table. Once he does, he opens his notepad, and tries not to groan.

 _Come on Tozier. One song. Bust out an idea. A lyric. A melody. Anything._ But its not that easy. It never is anymore. Everything is stale. Everything is stale except Eddie and this really good coffee. Cherries. Richie can’t help but wonder if Eddie’s lips would taste like cascara coffee. He hopes so.

_Cherries_

_Coffee_

_Lips like cascara._

Holy shit. Thats an idea. Or the start of one at least.

Richie fumbles for his pencil and scribbles down words that don’t make a whole lot of sense. He just has to get it down before he forgets. This is something. These are words on a paper and an idea for a song he might actually be able to write. And shit, he's got his muse right in front of his face to write about. This couldn't be more perfect.

Richie spends the next three hours writing. From little melody ideas to lyrics he jots so much down he has five pages in his notebook filled to the brim with ideas. This hasn't happened in a long time. This is direction. This is a song he could be proud of. Thank. Fuck. Beverley will be so happy.

Its getting dark and the only thing that cuts him out of his process is a familiar voice saying. “Hey, were closing up now.” It’s Eddie. He’s got a jacket on over his uniform, and a steaming coffee in his hands.

Richie raises his head from his notebook and looks around. He’s the only one left in the cafe other than Eddie. All the other employees seem to have vanished somehow as well. “Oh,” Richie says, beginning to pack up his stuff. “What time is it?”

“Ten-fifteen.” Eddie says, pursing his lips.

“Thats an odd time to close at.” Richie remarks, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and pushing in his chair.

“Well we normally close at ten but you looked busy and I had a bit of stuff to do so I-”

“Awe Eds.” Richie coos, hand on heart. “Did you work late just for lil’ ol me? You're a cutie.”

“Yeah well don't get used to it. Also my name is Eddie. I don’t like nicknames.” Eddie frowns, heading for the door. “Time to go.”

“Im pretty sure Eddie is a nickname.” Richie says, following close behind him to the door. Eddie doesn't verbally respond, he just scoffs and stuffs his free hand into his pockets. “Im Richie, by the way.”

“I know.” Eddie says, still walking.

“Oh. Wait, how?”

“Dude.” Eddie says, stopping and turning to face Richie. “You’re a celebrity, remember? Most people know who you are.”

“Oh. Ya.” Richie cracks a grin, before speeding up a little to end up beside Eddie, who's begun walking once more. “I just figured you didn't know because, well, you didn't act like you did.”

“You’re just a guy, Richie. I’m not going to fawn over you. Your music is good, but you're still just another person.”

Maybe that should offend Richie. Maybe it should hurt. But its the biggest relief he's heard in a while. Making friends is hard when everyone acts like you're God. Eddie doesn't really seem to care. The indifference is liberating.

“Cool.” Richie hums, nodding. “I like that. You work tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice. I’ll be back.”

“And I should care, why?” Eddie asks, walking up to a navy blue car and opening the drivers door.

“You know you want to see me again.” Richie winks, before beginning to walk backwards, giving Eddie a quick wave.“Gotta go Eds. See ya’ tomorrow.”

Eddie doesn't respond. Richie isn't surprised. He just takes a seat in the drivers seat and shuts the door a little harder than he probably had to, quickly backing out of his parking spot and driving off.

“Cute.” Richie says to no one. A small smile on his face as he turns around to walk to his car.

__________

“I’m done.” Richie mutters down at his notepad. Before looking up to face Stan and Bill who though were both previously engrossed in their conversation, are now staring at him wide eyed, baffled.

“You finished a song?” Stan asks.

“Don’t sound too shocked Staniel.” Richie smiles, lifting up a notepad to reveal his messily written lyrics. Bill squints as he tries to read them, but Richie slams the notebook down on the table before he gets the chance, leaning on his elbows in excitement. “I finished the melody last night. All I had left was the bridge. It’s done. Finnito. Ready for production. Thank fuck.” He groans, leaning back to tilt his head against the chair and up towards the sky.

“Whats it c-called?” Bill asks.

“Cascara.”

“Whats t-t-that?” Bill frowns, tilting his head slightly. Stan, also seems at a loss.

“A type of coffee.” Richie replies easily.

“So…” Stan starts, pursing his lips. “After sending you to a cafe to find inspiration, the best thing you could come up with was coffee?”

“The song isn't about the coffee.” Richie scrunches his nose. “It’s about a guy I met there.”

“You managed to find the inspiration you’d been lacking for _months_ in some random guy at a cafe?”

“He was cool, okay?” Richie insists, grabbing his notepad and quickly standing. “Look. I’ll play it, yeah? It’s actually really good.”

“Alright.” Stan says, nodding towards Richie to prompt him to go get his guitar. Richie sprints into the living room and picks it up off the couch where it had been abandoned hours ago. He returns with it and sits back down, beginning to tune it before clearing his throat, and opening his notebook to the sheet music he’d written.

_Hey there cascara you’re a modern day lover_

_cherry boy bravado could you help me recover_

_from me?_

_and all the fevers in between_

_you got the ideas spinning_

_got the record to dance_

_oh baby all ya’ gave me was a scrunched up glance_

_I’m hooked_

_on everything you’ve ever been_

_you've got eyes like something, I have known before_

_Break free with me cascara_

_we’ll be gone for a minute_

_I swear your world'll change if you just let me in it_

_I know, we’ve got to go_

_so pause me for a second we can jeopardize fate_

_I know you’ve got a violet kind of chill in your veins_

_lets go_

_where lovers go_

_Hey there romeo now won’t you give me a sign?_

_I’ve done three days in the limbo_

_and I wanna rewind to you_

_in that cafe booth_

_you've got lips like something, I have known before_

_Break free with me cascara_

_we’ll be gone for a minute_

_I swear your world'll change if you just let me in it_

_I know, we’ve got to go_

_so pause me for a second we can jeopardize fate_

_I know you’ve got a violet kind of chill in your veins_

_lets go_

_where lovers go_

_lips like cascara_

_lips like honey_

_eyes like sugar_

_and real cheap money_

_lips like cascara_

_lips like honey_

_eyes like sugar_

_and real cheap money_

_Break free with me cascara_

_we’ll be gone for a minute_

_I swear your world'll change if you just let me in it_

_I know, we’ve gotta go_

_so pause me for a second we can jeopardize fate_

_I know you’ve got a violet kind of chill in your veins_

_lets go_

_where lovers go_

It’s a great song. Richie can feel it in his bones as he sings. It feels like the first great thing he’s written in a long time. He can especially tell its great because Bill is speechless as he finishes. Bill is a writer. He always has a critique. Theres always something he can fix. Bill says nothing as Richie sets his guitar down.

It’s Stan instead, who breaks the silence. “Holy fuck, Rich.”

The room stays silent for a moment. Holy fuck is right.

“I know, right?” Richie grins. “I think its good. I’m gonna show Bev tomorrow. Hopefully it redeems me a bit.”

“Its g-g-great R-Richie.” Bill nods along. “Now I r-really w-w-wanna meet this guy.”

“He’s a gem.” Richie says. “He also hates me a lil’ bit but he’ll grow to adore my dashing charm.”

Stan rolls his eyes, but its fond. “Get some sleep, Rich. You’ve been working non-stop.”

“Aye-aye captain.” Richie salutes, patting both Stan and Bill on the head. “Thanks for the support.”

Stan swats him away, whilst Bill shows little to no protest.

“Of course, Trashmouth.”

____________

“Wow, Richie. This is really good.” Beverley says, holding the sheet music in her hands. “I’ve got to ask, though. Whats cascara?”

“Its a tea-like coffee. It tastes like cherries.” Richie explains. “They sell it on Rosewood, you know? It’s really good.”

“Ah.” Beverley nods, setting the paper down, a knowing look overcoming her face. “So… Who’s it about?”

“A barista at the cafe. God, Bev, he’s a firecracker. Real cute too.”

Beverley squints for a moment, staying silent in obvious thought before asking, “Whats the cafe called?”

“Presley’s Brew. Why?”

“Oh my god.” A pause. Beverley slams her hands down on the counter. “Eddie Kaspbrak? It’s him, isn't it?” Before Richie can answer, she cuts him off. “No way! I’m not surprised, he is totally your type.”

“How do you know Eds?” Richie asks, leaning forwards in his seat.

“My boyfriend’s roommate’s best friend.” Beverley explains. “He works at the cafe too, actually. Anyway yeah I’ve met Eddie a few times. Good guy. Also, your type to a T.”

“Haha, imagine if he knew I wrote this about him.” Richie says, shaking his head. “I’m heading there again today. Gotta go bug him a lil’ bit.”

“Alright. Well I’m glad this song is out of the way. One more at least would be terrific so we can have three singles, and seven other songs. Think of a record name yet? Little Wonders drops in twelve days and it’d be nice to start advertising an album name as well.”

“Can’t it just be self-titled?”

“You’re last record was a self-titled, Rich.”

“Oh,” Richie sighs. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck is right. Get on it, please. This song is great though. You want it as a single?”

“Yup. Cascara, then the other two we agreed on. Little Wonders, and Lightbright are the singles.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to to the label and we’ll work it out. _You_ , on the other hand, should hang out with Eddie. If he's cranking songs like this out of you, i’ll fucking pay him to hang out with you.”

“No need ma’am. He’s fallin’ for me. I can tell.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you lovelies for reading. in case you're wondering i wrote cascara. I'm not a song writer by any means but I've written a few in the past and am quite pleased with how this one turned out.
> 
> thank you for all the support. xoxo 
> 
> new chapter should be up soon enough seeing as I'm out of school.


End file.
